Taking an Improv Class and Facing My Fear
As an improv teacher it's important to have a healthy teaching-performance balance. When you don't, you're out of alignment. It's like your engine light goes on in the car and you know you need an oil change.
I needed an oil change. I needed inspiration.
I know when a lot of other improv teachers need inspiration, they take other people's improv classes or workshops.
I have never been one of those people. I am not that brave. That takes courage. That takes humility.
But sometimes, you need to put your art before your pride. So last week, for the first time in my life, I took an improv drop-in class.
When I say took, I mean as a student. I have sat in on people's class before to see how they teach, but that doesn’t count. I wanted to actually go in and learn.
As it got closer to class, I got nervous and I kept saying to myself over and over again, "Any new experience is a good experience."
At the last minute, I almost backed out, but then my wife said, "Go! Sometimes you need to just play." So I went.
I specifically went because it was taught by Norm Holly. Norm is a brilliant teacher and director who knows how to speak to actors/improvisers. I have worked with Norm at Second City, and I have never seen someone say so little and get so much out of an actor. I trust Norm, I respect Norm, and I have always genuinely liked him.
It was early Sunday morning as I walked into the Home Theater, in Chicago’s upscale northside neighborhood of Lincoln Park. When I walked in, the stage was familiar; it was a replica of a smaller version of the iO Chicago when it was in Wrigleyville, during the golden age of improv in the city.
Immediately, I was warmly greeted by one of the students, so I was no longer anonymous.
But I am pretty sure most of the other people had no idea that I was an improv teacher, even though Norm gave me introduction as if I was at an awards ceremony.
One woman came up to me later and said she looked me up on her phone and she was impressed.
I tried to downplay all the attention, not because I am humble, but to manage their expectations if I sucked.
And as soon as we began, I was transported into a time machine to 1984 when I took my first improv class. I was flooded with those feelings of fear, dread, and excitement. I could not turn the voices off in my head.
“Other people are doing better.”
“Other people are funnier than me.”
“Do they think I am too stand offish?”
“Do they think I suck?” Or worse: “Do I actually suck?”
Stay focused, you are here to learn. You are here to play. It doesn’t matter what other people think. You do not have to prove anything or live up to anyone's expectations.
Thank God that voice drowned out the other voices.
I enjoyed the lessons, and I enjoyed watching Norm teach and improvising with new people. But I was still so uncomfortable (in a good way), that it felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. And when class was over, I was so proud of myself, and I had such a good time, that I am looking forward to doing it again.
They are a lot of miracles of this story, but the one that stands out the most is that when I focus on learning, which I did that morning, it drowns out all my insecurities or perceived or imagined expectations from myself and others so I can do the work.
And the other lesson I learned is facing your fear is hard, but it really does feel amazing to force yourself to do something you’re scared of, because you’ll feel great about yourself on the other side.